LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






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MEMOIR 



EEANCES AMELIA AYEE, 



OF LISBON, CONNECTICUT. 



DIED JUNE 3, 18 43, AGED 14 YEARS. 



Written for the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society, and 
revised by the Committee o-f Publication. 



/ 

BOSTON: 

MASSACHUSETTS SABBATH SCHOOL SOCIETY, 
Depository, No. 13 Cornhill. 

1845. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, 

By CHRISTOPHER C. DEAN, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



-o *X *t 






PREFACE 



When this brief narrative was commenced, it was 
not with the expectation of committing it to the press, 
but as a private memento of one tenderly beloved. 
And it is now, with a degree of reluctance, that it 
is brought before the public, the author being fully- 
aware that its merits will not bear comparison with 
many similar works. But, as the cherished expecta- 
tions of the friends of the deceased, in relation to her 
future usefulness, have been blasted in the bud, and 
this simple record of her life seems to be the only 
means left of benefiting the world through her in- 
strumentality, it is submitted to the public, with the 
hope that its youthful readers may be led by its pe- 
rusal, to adore the riches of Divine Grace, in the 
scheme of salvation through a crucified Redeemer, 
and early consecrate themselves to his service. 
It was felt by the most intimate friends of the de- 
ceased, that Divine Grace was conspicuous in her 
case, particularly in the subdued spirit she exhibited 
during the last year of her life, and strikingly so, 
after her health became impaired. 



IV PREFACE. 

It has been the special aim of the compiler to avoid 
all exaggerations, and to state the unvarnished truth. 
When quoting the remarks of the deceased, he has 
been careful to use the precise words that came from 
her lips. Such as the humble performance is, he 
commits it to the Great Head of the Church, with the 
fervent prayer that his blessing may attend it. 

J. A. 

Lisbon, April, 1845. 



MEMOIR. 



Sin, the great source of all evil, has entered 
the world ; and through sin death, the ruth- 
less, the insatiate destroyer. Irrespective 
of condition, he cuts down the high and 
the low, the rich and the poor, the learned 
and the ignorant, the man of threescore 
years and ten, and the infant of a day. 
And, not unfrequeritly, he singles out, as a 
mark at which to shoot his poisoned ar- 
rows, the young and the promising ; — those 
who bid fairest to be useful in society, and 
around whom the fondest affections and 
hopes of friends are entwined. 

The remembrance of such individuals, it 
seems desirable to perpetuate, and particu- 
larly so to their own friends and connec- 
tions, that gratitude commensurate with the 
blessing may be exercised. And in every 
age, men have devised some way for pre- 
serving these memories of good persons, 
1* 



b MEMOIR OF 

and handing down to posterity their virtues 
and pious examples. But the writer is not 
influenced so much by a desire to perpetu- 
ate the memory of the subject of the follow- 
ing brief memoir, as by the hope of contrib- 
uting, in some degree, to the cause of 
truth ; believing that religious biographical 
reading has been, and ever will be, highly 
useful; and that it contributed, in no small 
degree, to the formation of the character of 
the departed. 

Frances Amelia, only daughter of Rev. 
Joseph Ayer, of Lisbon, Connecticut, was 
born April 27th, 1829. She was in infancy 
consecrated to God, in the ordinance of 
baptism, with the hope that she might be 
devoted to his service. 

She very early exhibited an amiable and 
teachable disposition ; and as her mind de- 
veloped, many hopes were excited that she 
might be eminently useful. She learned 
to read very young ; and it is believed 
read the Bible through in course, before 
she had completed her sixth year. In point 
of scholarship, she was far above medioc- 
rity; and seemed to have the art of bend- 



FRANCES AMELTA AYER. / 

ing her mind to one point, regardless of 
what was passing around her. Her lessons 
at school were almost invariably well com- 
mitted, and the rapidity with which she 
acquired knowledge was remarked by her 
teachers. One of them observed, that she 
never knew any child to acquire knowledge 
with more ease. Her books were her delight. 
She was a great reader ; and few read with 
greater facility, or were favored with a 
more retentive memory. Very few, at her 
age, have probably read as many volumes. 
Not content with reading a book once, she 
very frequently reperused it a third, fourth, 
and fifth time ; and, what is a subject of 
gratitude, her reading was almost exclu- 
sively of a serious character. 

It is not known that she was the subject 
of serious impressions until she was about 
nine years of age. There was then an 
unusual attention to the subject of religion 
in the school she attended, and for a time, 
she with others indulged a hope of par- 
doned sin, but soon after relinquished it. 
Something more than a year afterward, 
her attention was again called up by read- 



8 MEMOIR OF 

ing the tract entitled Lydia Sturtevant, or 
the Fatal Resolution ; and she seemed to 
be wrought upon in a very powerful man- 
ner. So greatly was her mind exercised, 
that her friends had much solicitude about 
the result. She would frequently ask her 
mother to retire with her to pray ; and in 
one instance, when engaged in this duty, 
thought she submitted her heart to the 
Saviour, but afterward doubted whether 
she was really changed. She however 
appeared deeply interested in devotional 
exercises, especially prayer, and peculiarly 
striking was the earnestness with which 
she engaged in this important duty, pre- 
senting the case of almost every individual 
in the circle of her acquaintance. 

Two years following, in the Spring of 
1842, a religious interest again prevailed in 
the place of her residence ; and then, if never 
before, it is humbly hoped Frances became 
indeed and in truth a child of God. She did 
not gain strength and confidence, to pro- 
fess publicly her faith in Christ, until near 
the close of life, but the deep interest she man- 
ifested on the day that her young associates 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 9 

were examined for admission to the church, 
is well remembered. Replying to her mo- 
ther's inquiry, in relation to her exercises, 
at that time, she said with emotion, " I 
have been very happy!" She evinced no 
disposition to be influenced by others, as it 
is to be feared too many are, in such sea- 
sons of religious interest. Whenever ques- 
tioned in relation to the indulgence of a 
hope, she would reply, " I do not think so 
much of that, as of feeling right, and lov- 
ing God with all my heart." While, per- 
haps, she erred in extreme self-distrust, is 
it not to be feared that too many err in the 
opposite extreme, hastily adjudging them- 
selves to be Christians, without sufficient 
self-examination, and evidence of a saving 
change ? It appeared to be characteristic 
of her, to proceed with great caution and 
timidity, in reference to her religious exer- 
cises, and the evidences of piety requisite 
to a profession of religion. It is thought 
that she had, in her own mind, erected a 
standard of piety, above that which most 
attain ; that its influence was felt in caus- 
ing her to defer connecting herself with the 



10 MEMOIR OF 

visible church of Christ. Her conscien- 
tiousness ever after her hopeful change 
was very striking. In one instance, the 
question being asked, in reference to some 
occurrence, what will be thought by others 
in relation to it, she replied, " we should 
not regard that, but only seek to know 
what is right,''' — a principle of action that 
should ever govern the young, and all other 
classes of individuals. 

Her frequency in prayer was, from this 
time, very unusual. It is not known how 
many seasons she was accustomed to ob- 
serve daily, but it is presumed from what 
is known, that she had very many. It 
was her custom, to spend a few moments 
in prayer, before leaving for school ; and if, 
in the morning, she was occasionally inter- 
rupted while engaged in this duty, and 
asked why she had neglected it until that 
time, it would be found, on a close investi- 
gation, that she had previously observed 
one or two seasons. And, again, she has 
been noticed, while sitting with the family 
in the afternoon, and engaged in conversa- 
tion, to leave the room and retire by herself, 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 11 

where she was overheard addressing the 
throne of Grace. A benevolent Sewing 
Society was formed in which she took a 
deep and lively interest. The satisfaction 
she manifested when religious conversation 
was introduced, was observable; and also the 
readiness with which she conformed to a rule 
of the Society ; and, although the youngest 
member, lead in devotion whenever the meet- 
ing was convened at the house of her father. 
There was an obvious and marked 
change in her deportment, which exhibited 
itself to her more intimate friends, in a sub- 
dued and submissive spirit, and carefulness 
to avoid injuring the feelings of others. It 
was remarked by her teacher, the last 
summer of her life, whenever she did any 
thing to wound her feelings in any degree, 
how readily she would come with expres- 
sions of sorrow and regret, and ask her for- 
giveness. This, with various other cir- 
cumstances combined, established in the 
mind of her instructress, to whom she was 
strongly attached, and with whom she was 
on terms of the greatest intimacy, the full- 
est confidence in relation to the hopeful 



12 MEMOIR OF 

change she had experienced. Also her 
readiness to yield to the wishes of her 
parents, and conform to the leadings of 
Providence, led her friends to encourage the 
hope that she was indeed born of the Spirit. 

The resignation with which she endured 
a disappointment, with reference to a visit 
with her father to a beloved aunt, in Hart- 
ford, which had been long in contemplation, 
and for which preparation had been made, 
should here be noticed. Owing to the un- 
expected failure of her health, she was com- 
pelled to relinquish the long cherished an- 
ticipation, yet she endured it with great 
meekness and patience, and acknowledged 
to her mother, in a long and interesting con- 
versation, which she then held with her, 
and in which she recounted her religious 
exercises from her earliest recollection, that 
she was aware she could not once have 
endured such a trial with so much sub- 
mission. 

In her disposition she was exceedingly 
affectionate. Indeed her heart seemed 
formed of love and tenderness. To her 
relatives and friends her affection was man- 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 13 

ifested by the most endearing assiduities. 
In them, however remote, she took a lively 
interest; and had prepared two books of 
family records, which cost her much labor, 
and which will ever be highly valued, 
tracing her lineage back to the fifth gener- 
ation ; unconscious, while thus employed, 
how soon another hand would be required 
to pen the record of her own early removal, 
although it would appear as if a space was 
intentionally left for the very purpose. It 
is believed she thought much of the uncer- 
tainty of life, of which she was doubtless 
reminded by the delicacy of her constitu- 
tion. How desirable that all, of every age, 
should aim to keep this important subject, 
a prominent theme of their reflections — for, 
surely, "in the midst of life we are in 
death." 

After an interesting celebration of the 
Cold Water Army, on the 4th of July, 
1842, with which she had been much de- 
lighted, as the announcement was made for 
a similar observance the ensuing year, she 
turned to a young associate and remarked^ 
2 



14 



MEMOTR OF 



'•How little we know who will live to wit- 
ness that scene." And, ere it returned, she 
had for more than a month, ceased to be 
an actor on life's busy stage. 

Her attachment to little children was 
perhaps peculiar. She was never happier 
than when occupied with them. A short 
time before her decease, as a relative left 
with a sweet babe, whom she loved very 
tenderly, and who survived her but a few 
months, she remarked, "Mother, how can 
any one refrain from loving little infants, 
when they are comparatively so innocent." 

The sensibilities of her heart were also 
alive to the wants of the poor and suffering. 
Particularly were her sympathies elicited 
in relation to the unhappy condition of the 
slaves of our country — and she has been 
often seen to weep in tender commiseration 
of their sufferings. The Child's Evening 
Hymn she was accustomed to repeat with 
much feeling, from which we select the 
following stanza, as expressive of her sym- 
pathy : 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 15 

" Yet while 'neath the evening skies, 
Thus we bid our thanks arise, 
Father ! still we think of those, 
Who are bow'd with many woes ; 
Whom no earthly parent's arm 
Can protect from wrong and harm ; 

The poor slaves, Father." 

Frances' health, after she arrived at the 
age of eight years, was never so good as 
previously. In the Spring of 1841, she had 
a slight sickness, which occasioned her 
friends some anxiety as to the result. But 
it pleased a kind Providence to restore her 
in a good degree. She was, however, never 
so well as formerly. Still she was able to 
attend school constantly, until August, '42, 
when she was attacked with a severe ill- 
ness, and it was seriously apprehended that 
she would soon sink under a rapid decline. 
Her symptoms were very alarming. She 
suffered greatly from extreme debility, en- 
tire loss of appetite, and a slight cough. 
She was attended by a careful and attentive 
physician, who was very faithful to her; 
and, through the Divine blessing, she was 
again rendered comfortable, though it is 



16 MEMOIR OF 

now believed that disease was then irre- 
movably fastened upon her slender frame. 
After this, she attended school several 
weeks, but every precaution was observed, 
as it was still feared her health was in a 
precarious state. 

As she seemed again declining, her pa- 
rents carried her to Norwich, November 
11th, to consult a physician there. The 
ride proved too much for her, and from that 
time she became seriously ill. But the 
mercy of her Heavenly Father was still 
manifested, and she was again partially 
restored, and able to go out and mingle in 
the society of her friends to some extent. 
She attended church every Sabbath, and 
joined in the performances of the choir, but 
was unable to attend school. 

Notwithstanding the debility of her body, 
her mind retained all its wonted vigor, and 
seemed to be rapidly developing. Her 
fondness for books has been before noticed, 
and this attachment seemed to grow with 
her growth, — and strengthen with her 
strength. Indeed, it was remarked by 
many of her acquaintances, that she was 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 17 

the greatest reader they ever knew ; and 
she seemed to remember and profit by what 
she read. After she became quite feeble, 
she would relate things of much inter- 
est from different authors to which she 
had attended. On one occasion, in speak- 
ing of the passage, "the Lord our right- 
eousness," she said she had never fully 
comprehended its import, till she read the 
exposition as given by B'Aubigne in his 
History of the Reformation. She then 
proceeded to give, in her own language, 
his explanation, in a very correct and in- 
teresting manner. 

Even the last night of her life, her ruling 
passion still manifested itself. She would 
often speak in her sleep, and at one time 
the word "Biblical" was distinguished; 
at another, "Literary works." 

Precious child ! we trust she is now 
where she can drink in knowledge from 
the purest fountain and never be exhausted. 
The Lord be praised for this cheering, 
sustaining hope. 

Frances had been accustomed, for sev- 
2* 



18 MEMOIR OF 

eral years, to assist her father in his studies, 
(who, on account of weakness of sight, is 
dependent on the aid of others,) and she 
was ever delighted to read or write for 
him. The interest she manifested in sub- 
jects calculated for maturer minds, was 
quite remarkable. It was observed with 
much interest, what clear and comprehen- 
sive views she entertained of some of the 
most abstruse doctrines of theology. The 
day before she was attacked with her last 
sickness, she wrote for her father, and in 
the interim of his dictating sentences, was 
busily engaged in attending to her own 
studies. 

It would seem that had she known how 
little time remained for her on earth, she 
could not have been more industrious. 
But alas, how soon was her work com- 
pleted, and how transient her life appears 
on a retrospect. 

On the last of January it was observed 
that she had a slight cough, which it was 
hoped would soon subside, but instead of 
this, it rather increased. She was troubled 
with difficulty of respiration, from which. 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 19 

however, she was soon relieved , and suf- 
fered no more in this way till within three 
weeks of her death. Through February 
and a part of March, she was quite feeble ; 
both she and her friends were much dis- 
couraged in relation to her recovery. 

Ever after her last confinement, her mind 
appeared to be in a very interesting state. 
She was much absorbed in the contempla- 
tion of divine things, in prayer and relig- 
ious conversation, to which she wished to 
listen exclusively. She would often ex- 
press her regret that her father should be 
compelled to leave her, after he had been 
conversing with her on these important 
subjects. In some instances when friends 
visited her, she would afterward remark, 
she wished they would at once enter into 
the spirit of religion — speak of its excellen- 
cy and loveliness, and not merely make 
general remarks on its importance, and the 
necessity of being prepared for death, &c. 
She was so desirous of having her mind fixed 
on the character of God, that she would 
take up His different attributes separately, 



20 MEMOIR OF 

and make each one a distinct theme of con- 
templation. 

The Mother's Hymn Book was with her 
a precious treasure, and from it she com- 
mitted many hymns which were very 
striking and appropriate. One evening af- 
ter she had been alone for a short time, her 
mother returned to the room, and noticing 
her emotion, began conversing with her in 
relation to her feelings. She said she would 
communicate them, but feared she might 
be influenced by some wrong motive. On 
being assured she need have no hesitancy 
in communicating them to her mother, she 
related some of her exercises, and then spoke 
of a hymn she had been committing, which 
expressed her feelings more fully than she 
could herself. The hymn to which she 
alluded was the 111th of the Mother's 
Hymn Book, which is as follow^ : 

Come, my Redeemer, come, 
And deign to dwell with me, 
make my heart thy home, 
And bid thy rivals flee ; 
Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, 
And make my heart thy lasting home. 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 21 

Why should the world presume 

To occupy thy throne 1 

Come, and thy right assume — 

I would be thine alone : 
Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, 
And make my heart thy lasting home. 

Exert thy mighty power, 

And banish all my sin ; 

In this auspicious hour, 

Bring all thy graces in : 
Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, 
And make my heart thy lasting home. 

Rule thou in every thought 

And passion of my soul, 

Till all my powers are brought 

Beneath thy full control ; 
Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, 
And make my heart thy lasting home. 

Then shall my days be thine, 

And all my heart be love, 

And joy and peace be mine, 

Such as are known above : 
Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, 
And make my heart thy lasting home. 



22 MEMOIR OF 

Another from the same collection, 101st, 
she often repeated with much interest. 

O Lord, I would delight in thee, 
And on thy care depend ; 
To thee in every trouble flee, 
My best, my only Friend. 



No good in creatures can be found, 

But may be found in thee ; 
I must have all things and abound, 

While God is God to me. 

Lord, least my care on thee, 

I triumph and adore ; 
Henceforth my great concern shall be 

To love and please thee more. 

The 19th, also, afforded her much con- 
solation, — commencing, 

Encourage my heart with thy smile, &c. 

The second and third stanzas ■ seemed to 
be in striking accordance with her feelings ; 

? Tis better to suffer and die 
Beneath thy compassionate rod, 

Than feel my enjoyments run high, 
But never have thee for my God. 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 23 

I would not contend with thy will, 
Whatever that will may decree ; 

But O, may each trial I feel 
Unite me more firmly to thee. 

There were also very many others from 
this collection, the Village Hymn Book, and 
the Mass. Sabbath School Hymn Book, 
which she committed with much comfort 
and satisfaction to herself. 

She had ever been much interested in the 
Sabbath school, and was never absent from 
her class, unless prevented by ill health. 
Her attachment to her teachers was strong, 
and it is hoped ceased not with life, but 
will be lasting as eternity. She continued 
to get the lessons with the same regularity 
as when she attended the school, until the 
last two Sabbaths of her life. 

She was also much engaged in commit- 
ting the Assembly's Catechism, with all the 
references, as contained in Emerson's Evan- 
gelical Primer, but after pursuing this 
study for a length of time, she was dis- 
suaded from its continuance through fear 



24 MEMOIR OF 

that it was taxing her memory too much 
for her feeble state. She had, some time 
previously, commenced Scott's Commenta- 
ry, and always continued to read a chapter 
with the notes and observations, every day, 
until within a short time of her decease. 
Indeed, her mind seemed to dwell almost 
exclusively on these important themes 
through the day ; and it was exceedingly 
pleasant, when she awoke in the night for 
her medicine or refreshment, to see how 
readily her mind would revert to these in- 
teresting subjects, and listen to her expres- 
sions of gratitude, love and submission. 
Frequently she would repeat some favorite 
hymn or portion of Scripture. 

Notwithstanding the efforts she made to 
keep her mind in a religious frame, she 
mourned that sinful thoughts would obtrude 
themselves, which caused her much sorrow. 
In one instance, in particular, she was 
noticed to be weeping, and being asked the 
cause, replied, that -she had been much 
troubled with sinful thoughts — she had en- 
deavored to suppress them, but Satan 
seemed to have obtained the ascendency." 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 25 

On being told that we were accountable 
rather for the indulgence of wicked thoughts 
than for their being suggested to the mind, 
she became calm. Afterward, the subject 
being resumed, she shed many tears. On 
one occasion some female friends called : 
after they left, Frances remarked, "I have 
been very unhappy, for before I was aware, 
I found myself observing their dress ; and 
that I, a poor sick girl, should be occupied 
with any thing so trifling, seems very sin- 
ful. I changed my position that I might 
avoid the temptation." 

There had been less expended on her 
dress, it is believed, than is usual for one 
in similar circumstances. But she had ever 
seemed satisfied, and perhaps gave her 
parents less trouble on this subject, than 
most children are accustomed to do — ap- 
pearing to feel entire confidence in their 
judgment. After her sickness, she seemed 
to give it up entirely to her mother, and to 
have no opinion nor anxiety in relation 
to it. 

This is mentioned as a trait of character 
3 



26 MEMOIR OF 

commending itself to the observation and 
imitation of the children and youth who 
may read this narrative. 

Frances seemed to have very correct 
views of the demerit of sin. and remarked 
that she had heard some who were in 
trouble observe that they did not know 
why they should be so much afflicted : but 
to her it was no mystery. She was well 
aware that her sins deserved more suffering 
than she had ever experienced. 

Dr. H , from Norwich, who had pre- 
viously been consulted in relation to her 
case, visited her February lSth, and held a 
consultation with her physician. He ex- 
amined her lungs, and pronounced one of 
them affected, but thought she might be 
relieved. 

Soon after this she appeared to have 
taken cold. Her cough became much 
worse, attended with an almost constant 
expectoration: and she was exceedingly 
hoarse for a few days. This occasioned 
deep anxiety, and probably she suffered 
more than at any other period of her sick- 
ness, with the exception of the last few days. 



FRANCES AMELIA AVER. 27 

But the Lord, in the greatness of his 
mercy, soon appeared for her, — blessed the 
means, and granted her much relief. Her 
cough subsided, and there seemed to be a 
gradual improvement until the last three 
weeks of her life. Every symptom, except 
her thin and pale appearance, promised at 
least a partial restoration. Her strength in- 
creased daily, and as soon as the weather 
permitted, she either rode or walked out 
every pleasant day, which afforded her 
high satisfaction. She manifested no im- 
patience in relation to her recovery, as 
many often do when in a convalescent 
state, but appeared uniformly submissive. 
If the weather was favorable for her riding 
or walking, she enjoyed it much ; if other- 
wise ordered, she seemed entirely quiet, 
and neither manifested or expressed any 
dissatisfaction. She was a great admirer 
of flowers, and all the works of nature ; 
and it is a source of much gratitude, that 
she was kindly permitted to go out so fre- 
quently, and witness the beauties of the 
opening season, which was unusually 
pleasant. At one time, when riding with 



28 MEMOIR OF 

her father, upon the road that runs parallel 
with the Shetucket river, which was in full 
view, Frances enjoyed it very much, and 
remarked upon the fine prospect in a very 
interesting manner. 

She had a lively sense of her mercies ? 
and was often occupied in recapitulating 
them. The pleasantness of her room, with 
the utility of every article it contained, she 
would mention with much apparent grati- 
tude ; and then feelingly contrast her com- 
forts, with the wants, and desolations of 
the suffering poor, to whose distress she 
had been a witness when visiting with her 
father. She would also frequently contrast 
her less suffering state with that of a dear 
cousin, who was visited with an exceeding- 
ly distressing disease, and with whom in a 
former place of residence, she had been on 
terms of great intimacy. 

They were nearly of the same age, their 
first name the same, were taken sick not far 
from the same time, and died within a few 
weeks of each other. As Frances occasion- 
ally heard of her distressing condition, she 
would express the liveliest commiseration 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 29 

for her sufferings, and an ardent desire fo* 
her spiritual interests. This friend had, some 
years previous, lost an excellent mother ; 
and it is well remembered, with what ten- 
der emotion Frances would remark, u Poor 

F H has no kind mother to watch 

over her, pray for, and minister to her tem- 
poral and spiritual necessities." 

In one instance some young friends 
called, to whom she was much attached ; 
some of whom she had not seen for a long 
time. Her calm appearance on their de- 
parture was observed with tearful emotion ; 
and she was asked, if it did not seem hard 
to be so confined, while her young compan- 
ions came and went at their pleasure? 
" O, no/' she replied, " I have not had such 
a thought." She was gratified with. seeing 
her associates, but never expressed any 
feeling of loneliness, in being so much se- 
cluded from their society. She appeared 
to entertain very correct views, for one so 
inexperienced, of the unsatisfying nature of 
earthly joys; and to renounce her former 
high hopes of enjoyment from the world, 
3* 



30 MEMOIR OF 

although her social disposition, and the na- 
tive buoyancy of her spirits, had previous- 
ly occasioned her a keener relish for socie- 
ty than the most possess. She said to her 
mother that she anticipated but little more 
enjoyment from mingling with the world ; 
if she could but have health to assist her 
father, and render herself useful, it was all 
she expected. 

She was uniformly cheerful and uncom- 
plaining. Every thing was done to her 
satisfaction, and received with expressions 
of gratitude. It was remarked by one who 
was with her much of the time during her 
sickness, and by many who visited her sick- 
room, "that it was the pleasantest, on all 
accounts, of any which they had ever wit- 
nessed." It was entirely divested of all 
gloom. It was her often-expressed desire 
that those around her should be calm, and 
nothing distressed her so much as to behold 
the sorrow of her friends. She remarked, 
" that the loneliness and affliction which 
she knew must be experienced on her re- 
moval, was her greatest source of suffer- 
ing." 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. . 31 

Through April, and until the thirteenth 
of May, she appeared gradually convales- 
cing, and was so comfortable that it was 
thought she might soon again attend church. 
She observed to a friend, that she had 
thought, for several Sabbaths, she might 
go the next. There had also been many 
plans for journeying with her. But oh how 
deceptive the disease; and how soon was 
every fond hope and expectation blasted ! 
with what an irremovable grasp had it 
fastened upon her system ! While to hu- 
man view there was so much prospect of 
her restoration, the great Ruler of the des- 
tinies of all men had in his infinite, uner- 
ring wisdom, otherwise decreed. 

On the ninth of May, an aged friend was 
to be interred in the burial ground near the 
residence of her father. This had ever 
been with her a spot of great interest, and 
at her request, her parents went with her 
to view the place where this friend was to 
be laid. She returned without apparent 
fatigue. The Saturday following, just 
three weeks from the day of her death, 
there was to be another interment of a little 



32 MEMOIR OF 

infant; and she again expressed a wish to 
go and look into the grave. Her brother 
accompanied her, and on her return was 
much alarmed at the exhaustion she mani- 
fested. Then, for the first time, was dis- 
covered the same difficulty of respiration, 
with which she was troubled at the com- 
mencement of her illness. 

Her mother met her at the door, and 
could not but be exceedingly anxious on 
witnessing her unusual fatigue ; but Fran- 
ces was even inclined to view things in the 
most favorable light, and said " Mother, I 
presume I shall soon be better — I will lie 
down, and I think I shall be relieved." 
She did so, and was soon apparently re- 
stored, and at her urgent request the fami- 
ly left her alone, to attend the funeral of 
the child to which allusion has been made. 
Since she had become so much more com- 
fortable, it appeared to afford her great sat- 
isfaction, that she was no longer compelled 
to detain her mother from the house of God, 
and would say, "how pleasant it seems 
Mother, to have you again able to attend 
public worship.' 7 In a few instances, she 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 33 

persuaded all the family to leave her, ap- 
pearing to be almost as much gratified, as 
if she had been able to attend herself. 

Here it may be suitable to allude to her 
attachment to the services of the Sanctua- 
ry, with the hope of influencing others to 
imitate her example. At the age of two 
she commenced attending church, and was 
never absent unless providentially prevent- 
ed. Even when the weather was so unfa- 
vorable, that the other females of the fami- 
ly would be discouraged from going, she 
would not suffer it to prevent her attend- 
ing, if her health would permit. 

On the return of the family from the fu- 
neral of the babe before mentioned, Fran- 
ces appeared as comfortable as usual, but 
from this time, seemed to be declining, the 
first week more gradually than afterwards. 
Her difficulty of respiration seemed to in- 
crease daily, and her strength and appetite 
declined as rapidly. Her physicians had 
attended upon her very assiduously, but 
alarming symptoms returning, it was 
thought necessary again to consult Dr. H. 
who visited her eleven days before her de- 



34 MEMOIR OF 

cease. He was greatly surprised at the 
unexpected change, and observed " that 
there had been a very great accumulation 
of disease since he last saw her : — one lung 
he thought had entirely ceased to perform 
its functions." 

The result of consultation was. that no 
relief could be afforded. It is impossible to 
describe the emotions awakened by this 
unexpected disclosure. Through the whole 
of Frances : sickness we had endeavored to 
be frank — and honest, and had conversed 
freely with her in relation to every discour- 
agement. But after so many encouraging 
appearances, how could we but anticipate 
a favorable result ! And now how painful 
the duty of making known to the dear pa- 
tient sufferer, that there was no longer any 
hope in the case. Her afflicted father felt 
that he could not do it, and her mother at 
first thought it was not in her power. But af- 
ter much effort, the succeeding morning, she 
was enabled to disclose to Frances the opin- 
ion of her physicians, which she earnestly 
desired to know, and respecting which she 
made many inquiries the evening previous. 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 35 

On being informed of her hopeless condi- 
tion, she at first manifested some agitation, 
and shed some tears; but after a short strug- 
gle, in which we trust grace was triumphant, 
she remarked that " she had never expected 
to be well again, but had hoped she might 
live some years ; but now," she added with 
deep emotion, u I have nothing to do, but to 
cast myself unreservedly upon the mercy of 
my Saviour, and prepare to meet him in 
peace. I have no worthiness of my own, 
but must trust wholly in his perfect right- 
eousness ; — but, mother, will you pray that 
I may be spared a few days, that I may be 
the better prepared for my great and last 
change." So nearly did she at once bring 
death to view ; and from that time seemed 
to give up the world, and we trust made 
her God her all. She conversed very freely 
for quite a length of time — and though her 
affectionate and interesting appearance 
made an impression which can never be 
obliterated, yet many deeply affecting 
things which she then said, owing to the 
agitation of the scene, cannot be recalled. 
One thing is remembered; the satisfaction 



36 MEMOIR OF 

she expressed, that she was not to be left 
the afflicted survivor of her mother ; say- 
ing, "How grateful I should be that you, 
my dear mother, were not called before me, 
and I left in this world of sin and tempta- 
tion, without your care and instruction." 

Fearing lest she might exhaust herself, 
at her mother's request, she ceased convers- 
ing, and soon fell into as quiet a sleep, as 
if nothing had occurred ; and on awaking 
appeared solemn but entirely composed. 
She afterward, in conversing freely upon 
this scene, said, she thought that, at that 
time, she did make a more entire consecra- 
tion of herself to the Saviour, than she had 
ever done before. The inquiry being made, 
do you feel, Frances, that you then made 
this consecration, and can you do it now ? 
She meekly replied in the affirmative. 

It did appear, judging from all she said, 
and from her whole deportment, that she 
was enabled to bow in sweet acquiescence 
to the holy will of her Father in heaven ; 
that she had no disposition to murmur, nor 
to arraign his wisdom, or goodness, in this 
trying dispensation of his Providence. 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 37 

Have we not here a striking proof of the 
power of Divine grace, to sustain the soul 
in its most severe conflicts? The subject 
of this memoir was young, and had seen 
life only in its brightest presentation. 

And although, as has been before observ- 
ed, she had unusually correct views after 
her sickness, of the unsatisfying nature of 
earthly enjoyments, yet she loved her friends 
most tenderly, and could not but be aware 
of the fact that her affection was warmly 
reciprocated. Many of " earth's scenes 
were still sweet," and presented charms, of 
which the youthful mind is alone suscepti- 
ble. Beside, she was naturally timid. 
Would not nature, unsupported by grace, 
have shrunk from the dread realities, thus 
unexpectedly bursting upon her view ? O 
let us then admire the riches of that grace, 
which is so eminently adapted to our neces- 
sities, and adore Him, who gave himself to 
provide the way for the bestowment of such 
an unspeakable blessing, which alone can 
enable us calmly to relinquish our hold on 
earth, and soothe, cheer and sustain us in 
4 



38 MEMOIR OF 

the most trying emergencies of life, and 
even in the last conflict of dissolving na- 
ture. 

Frances had continued to ride, up to this 
time ; and in the afternoon of the same day, 
rode with her parents the distance of one 
mile to her grandfather's, where she had 
been so frequently, and where she was ever 
delighted to visit. Bat now the last time 
had arrived in which she would ever be in- 
dulged this privilege. She was very feeble 
while there, and had quite a distressed turn ; 
but it was a trait in her character to gather 
enjoyment from almost every passing scene. 
She appeared to derive much satisfaction 
from her visit, and her friends it is presum- 
ed will never forget it. On returning, her 
father walked by the side of the carriage, 
and her interesting appearance in this, her 
last ride, can never cease to be remembered 
but with the deepest interest. She seemed 
to enjoy it very much, and conversed with 
all her wonted cheerfulness. It was at a 
pleasant hour ; the sun was fast declining, 
and the softened hues of the western hori- 
zon, were very beautiful. In admiring the 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 39 

lovely view, allusion was made to the supe- 
rior prospects, joys and glories of the upper 
world, which "eye hath not seen nor ear 
heard, neither have entered into the heart 
of man." In speaking of her dissolution 
she remarked, that she did not know that 
death had any terrors to her mind, or that 
the grave appeared gloomy. And then 
she spoke of an aged friend, who had been 
removed some time previous, " how pleas- 
ant the thought had been, that he was laid 
so near us." And now her loved remains 
lie in close but silent compact, with him 
and his beloved companion ; social in death. 
This was the last time she ever went out. 
On returning home she appeared comforta- 
ble, sat up until evening, and received a 
call from some young friends to whom she 
was strongly attached, and one of whom had 
been long absent. 

She retired appearing as usual; but the 
latter part of the night it was discovered 
that her breathing was more labored, and 
she appeared distressed. Her mother went 
to her several times, but she would urge 
her not to be anxious, as she was not con- 



40 MEMOIR OF 

scious of suffering, and observed in the 
morning how short the hours had appear- 
ed. But on attempting to arise and dress 
as usual, we found her strength had failed 
very much : she was so exceedingly alter- 
ed, it was greatly feared she would not sur- 
vive the day. Her physician was called, 
who, after an examination, thought her not 
immediately dying, but without some alter- 
ation did not think she could continue many 
days. He conversed, in her presence, freely, 
in relation to her case; and although her 
friends were deeply concerned, she appear- 
ed quite composed. After he had prayed 
with her, and had left her room, she said to 
her mother, in a pleasant though feeling 
manner, "What a good prayer he has 
made." In the morning she could take no 
nourishment, but at noon was able to be 
up, had her seat at the table, and ate a very 
little. She sat a long time, and seemed un- 
conscious of what was passing around her, 
and wholly absorbed with her own reflec- 
tions. She afterward told her mother that 
" she had never had such glorious views of 
heaven as at that time.' 7 It has been much 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 41 

regretted that she was not questioned in re- 
lation to those views — but some circum- 
stance occurred at that moment to change 
the conversation, and it was never after re- 
sumed. In the afternoon her brother had 
her Accordion, which had been very dear 
to her ; she looked at him pleasantly and 

said, " Now C my Accordion will be 

yours." Her mother said, " then Frances 

you give it to C , do you ?" " Yes," she 

replied, " I have no longer any use for it." 
Her manner was most affectionate ; and as 
her mother turned from her to conceal her 
emotions, she gave her such a look of un- 
utterable tenderness, as cannot be describ- 
ed. She likewise gave her brother her 
books, with the exception of those her 
mother wished to retain ; and all with ap- 
parent calmness. On being asked, if she 
wished to make any disposition of her 
clothes, or any thing she possessed ; she 
spoke of some things particularly — a sack 
that had been given her by a valued relative 
she said " might be useful to her Mother." 
Some other articles she disposed of, and 
4* 



42 MEMOIR OF 

then added, " and all my little boxes, and 
other articles you can do with as you 
please," and seemed ready to relinquish all 
with entire cheerfulness. Her cough had 
not been troublesome for nearly two months, 
and some days it was scarcely perceptible ; 
but this afternoon she had a severe turn of 
coughing, which continued nearly half an 
hour. When her father returned from the 
weekly prayer meeting she said with diffi- 
culty, " Do ask Father to pray that I may 
have a little interval from suffering, before 
I go hence." And on his commencing, she 
was almost immediately relieved, and was 
never afterward afflicted with a cough. 
This was very remarkable, and an un- 
speakable mercy in her debilitated state. 

The following night she had watchers 
for the first time. Her mother, who had 
been devoted to her, during her whole sick- 
ness, was obliged, that night, to commit her 
to the care of a beloved aunt, and it was 
noticed with surprise, how thoughtfully she 
now consented to have others attend upon 
her — although, previously, she had always 
wished her mother to be about her, partic- 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 43 

ularly when in distress. But now, when 
asked, if she should not remain with her, 
after affectionately kissing her, she would 
say, "No, mother, go and try to get some 
rest." The next day she appeared quite 
as comfortable as the day previous, and 
conversed with more ease. She expressed 
much gratitude for all the favors she had 
received ; and remarked, that, since it had 
been so difficult for her to converse, she 
had not always given utterance to her grat- 
itude for the unceasing attentions bestowed 
upon her, but she thought it was not be- 
cause she was ungrateful. She then asked 
forgiveness of her parents, brother, and an 
aged aunt who resided in the family, and 
who had done much for the alleviation of 
her sufferings. To her she expressed many 
thanks for all her kindnesses, and requested 
her to forgive all that had been amiss in 
her conduct, saying she was conscious of 
having spoken many times improperly but 
thought it had been rather from the im- 
pulse of the moment than from a feeling of 
ill will. 
In conversing upon the subject of death, 



44 MEMOIR OF 

she said she had been thinking what man- 
ner of death she would choose, if left to her 
choice, and she had decided that she would 
prefer to die in that way which would most 
glorify God. A state of mind highly de- 
sirable both in sickness and in health. 

That night she had another dear aunt to 
take care of her, and during the few nights 
that remained, she was remarkably favored 
in having kind friends and relatives to 
watch with her, and praying friends too, 
which was to her an unspeakable comfort, 
as she said she could not feel willing to 
have those about her, on whom she could 
not call with freedom to pray, or sing, with 
her. And, indeed, it was very sweet, amid 
the silent and anxious hours of night, to 
listen to the voice of praise and supplica- 
tion from her apartment. These exercises, 
with the reading of the Scriptures, formed 
her chief sources of consolation during her 
last days on earth. Whenever distressed 
she would wish her father, brother, or some 
friend to pray, or sing ; and many were the 
petitions daily presented to the throne of 
grace from her apartment. She remarked, 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 45 

she did not wish people to pray so much 
for her recovery as that she might be sanc- 
tified, and entirely conformed to the Divine 
will. 

Since the hope had been indulged that 
she had passed from death unto life, Frances 
had manifested a peculiar desire, for one so 
young, to investigate every motive by 
which she was influenced ; and now as she 
felt heart and flesh to be failing, she evin- 
ced more and more of this disposition. 

She had always taken great satisfaction 
in listening to her father's religious conver- 
sation, and now more than ever. At one 
time, as he entered the room, she said to 
him, "I have been thinking whether I love 
God because he is a holy being, or from 
other considerations.'' As he specified the 
evidences of piety, she would strive to search 
her own heart, and ascertain whether she 
possessed them. Speaking of a submis- 
sive spirit as one evidence, and inquir- 
ing if she thought she had exercised such a 
spirit, sl*e replied with meekness she thought 
she had — she had not been conscious of ex- 
ercising rebellious feelings. And it is hoped 



46 MEMOIR OF 

that in this she was correct, as she was 
never heard to utter a murmur, or complaint, 
during the entire period of her sickness; 
but on the contrary, when her symptoms 
were most unfavorable, would say sooth- 
ingly, " It is all right, mother, it is all 
right." In one instance her mother was 
speaking of the strength of attachment she 
and other friends had cherished for her : — 
" But not one of my friends" she replied 
emphatically, " would die for me ;" in allu- 
sion to the great compassion of the Saviour ; 
which was in striking accordance with that 
beautiful stanza, 

Which of all our friends to save us, 
Could or would have shed his blood ? 

But this Saviour died to have us, 
Reconciled in him to God." 

On one occasion the subject of conversa- 
tion was the compassion of Christ in giving 
us the hope of heaven, where we shall be 
made holy like the angels of God, and 
where the blissful inhabitants will never 
have occasion to say "I am sick;" and 
those forcible lines were repeated, 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 47 

61 But oh, eternity's too short, 
To utter forth his praise." 

She was, at the time, experiencing unu- 
sual distress, yet her feeling seemed to be 
much awakened, and she replied, in a man- 
ner deeply impressive, " No finite bounds, 
nor space of time, can afford us opportu- 
nity to utter forth his praise." Her mother 
had been absent for a short time, and on 
her entering the room, Frances said with 
emotion, " Father has been talking to me 
so good; he would often exclaim," " How 
good the Lord is," and I could not but re- 
spond to the sentiment." A short time after 
she was heard in a whisper repeating to 
herself, " How good the Lord is." 

On Sabbath afternoon, her last on earth, 
she was left with her mother and a dear rel- 
ative, to whom she said she wished freely 
to communicate her feelings, and would as 
she was able. She then went on to state 
her exercises, and said many things which 
would be interesting to be noticed, but the 
most are not remembered with sufficient 
accuracy. After this interview the relative 
who was present remarked before she left, 



48 MEMOIR OF 

that Frances appeared to possess the matu- 
rity of an experienced Christian. 

The same disposition of scrutinizing 
every thought and action, seemed to con- 
tinue, and she remarked "My friends are 
hoping I am a Christian ; how dreadful 
if after all I and they should be deceived." 
But she thought it was her desire to have 
her mind entirely fixed upon the Saviour, 
and go to him with the same freedom that 
she did to her parents, — and on being 
asked if she now thought she could, she re- 
plied, "Yes, in a good degree." In speak- 
ing of the great satisfaction she had derived 
from reading, she said she could give up 
D'Aubigne's History, and other books, she 
had commenced, but she regretted leaving 
Scott's Commentary of the Bible unfinish- 
ed. She had read the Bible through, in 
course, a number of times ; how many, it is 
not recollected. And after she was sick 
she commenced Scott's Commentary, as 
has been before noticed, and her mark was 
left at the twelfth chapter of Deuteronomy. 

She was very feeble on Monday, and 
unable to converse much. On Tuesday 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 49 

she was about the same, and saw no one but 
the family, and her deeply afflicted grand- 
mother, who came once more to see her. But 
how changed was the dear child, who had 
ever been accustomed to greet her with wel- 
coming joy. Yet feeble as she was, her coun- 
tenance was even now lit up with its wont- 
ed smile, on again beholding the face of this 
beloved relative, to whom she was bound 
by unusually tender ties. She was too 
weak to converse much, but manifested her 
reliance on the Saviour, and disposition to 
commit all into his hands. Wednesday 
she appeared so much more comfortable 
that it was thought she might be spared a 
few weeks longer. Feeling herself so much 
relieved, and being conscious of her own 
weakness, and fearing lest she might be in- 
duced to take the world back again into her 
heart, she said with great earnestness, 
': Mother, do pray that I may not lose the 
impressions I have had, but be in constant 
readiness for whatever awaits me." It was 
a lovely day, and she sat some time by the 
window, conversing very pleasantly, ad- 
5 



50 MEMOIR OF 

miring some flowers of her own rearing, 
and others she had by her, which had been 
sent her from a distance, and remarking 
upon the surpassing loveliness of the world 
of glory, where every thing will so far tran- 
scend all that can be presented to the eye 
in this imperfect state. She also looked 
over her books a little, put in marks as far 
as she had read, and seemed to be taking 
her leave of them. Doct. Porter's and Mr. 
Whitfield's memoirs she had been reading 
but had not quite completed them. One 
book in particular she valued very highly, 
The Missionary's Daughter, or Lucy Good- 
ale Thurston, and kept it by her much of 
the time. This book had been procured for 
her in the winter, and she had perused and 
reperused it with great interest, and it is be- 
lieved with much profit. In speaking of its 
effect on her mind, she said she believed it 
had been salutary, and if she should live, 
thought she should be willing to devote 
herself to the missionary cause. In speak- 
ing of the Hymn books she had so much 
prized, she said if she felt able, she would, 
or the satisfaction of her mother when she 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 51 

was gone, look them over, and mark the 
hymns she had committed. She also spoke 
of some of her clothing, with some other 
articles, and mentioned how she would like 
to have them disposed of — all which was 
done with an appearance of entire tranquil- 
lity of mind. She was able to see some 
company and saw for the last time a dear 
young friend, which gratified her much. 

Her aunt L spent a part of the day 

with her, which afforded her much satis- 
faction. > 

Frances observed to her mother that she 
had never loved her friends more tenderly 
than at that time, yet to have her thoughts 
and affections placed supremely upon the 
Saviour was her predominant and all-ab- 
sorbing desire. Although her mind seemed 
so much occupied with this one desire, to 
make her God her all, and have him reign 
in every thought and feeling of her heart, 
yet it is believed she had a greater struggle 
to give up her friends than she expressed. 
At one time after looking at her mother in 
the most endearing manner she said, " Do 
you think, mother, we shall know each 



52 MEMOIR OF 

other in heaven?" Again she said, " How 
many times I have wept at the idea of my 
mother being taken from me." And re- 
peatedly did she endeavor to soothe that 
sorrow which would at times be irrepressi- 
ble, by saying, " Mother, when I am gone, 
you must think I am in heaven." How 
should our gratitude be excited, that she 
was enabled thus to cheer and console us, 
in view of our trying separation. It is well 
remembered how affectionately she would 
look after her father as he left the room, 
and from the fullness of her heart exclaim, 
" The best of fathers." And often when his 
emotions would be uncontrollable, and to 
conceal them would leave the apartment, 
she would say, " How it distresses me to 
have father feel so much," and express her 
fears lest his sorrow should be the means 
of impairing his health. She often request- 
ed him with her other friends to be calm, 
and said, nothing distressed her so much 
as to witness the grief of those about her ; 
if it was the will of the Lord to remove her 
at that time, it was her and their duty 



FRANCES AMELIA AVER. 53 

cheerfully to submit, and not give indul- 
gence to sadness and despondency. 

In one instance her father was endeavor- 
ing to administer consolation to her mind 
in view of the painful separation awaiting 
us, and remarked that God in his infinite 
mercy had given her to us and she had 
been a pleasant child ; if he now took her 
away, we should be where we were before 
the bestowment of the blessing. She repli- 
ed, the reflection would be pleasant, if we 
had trained a soul for heaven. She ap- 
peared to feel the tenderest sympathy in the 
lonely situation of her brother after her re- 
moval, and spoke of his affliction and be- 
reavement with deep emotion. A dear 
friend came in on the Sabbath evening pre- 
vious who was to take care of her for the 
night, and being asked if she should go out 
with her brother for a short season. " O, 
yes," she replied, " if she can say any thing 
to comfort C 1 am willing." She remark- 
ed to that friend who had been her Sabbath 
school Teacher, in the course of the night, 
that she must try to be more faithful to her 
5* 



54 B1EM0IR OF 

charge. And when asked if she had not a 
message to send to her class, she said, " Yes, 
tell them to love the Saviour." 

Her brother had prepared and brought 
her the following lines, which she read with 
the deepest interest and the most entire 
composure, saying with a smile on conclud- 
ing them, " Mother, how sweet they are." 

Disease, with iron grasp, has fasten 'd 

On thy tender frame, my dearest, only sister ; 

And ere long, thou well dost know, 'twill bear thee 

To the narrow house, where all who live must sleep, 

Till sounding trump, of God's archangel, 

Shall break their slumbers. To us, thy friends 

thou 'rt dear ; 
We have lov'd thee well, perchance too well. 
Ah ! who that knows the value of a friend, 
The tender ties, reciprocally sweet, that bind 
Hearts of a kin together, can cease to love? 
To me, thine only brother, thou 'rt endeared 
By nature's bands, which wither and shrink 
At thought of dissolution. 
I've lov'd thee well, than whom, none better this 

side heaven. 
In sweet affection's glowing flame, that lit 
Thy bosom, we too, have richly shared. 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 55 

Yet we trust, thou lov'st thy God, thy Saviour better ; 
Better far, than earthly parent, brother, friend. 
And happy we, that 'tis so. Thrice happy they, 

who like 
To John the well beloved, may lean on Jesus' bosom. 
And dearest Frances, we now would hope, that thou, 
Undoubting, art one of the few, the happy, 
Whose unequalled lot is this. 
If so, all's well, and thou art almost home — 
So near thy sweet, sweet home in heaven ! 'Tis so — 
'Tis even so, if thou art Christ's, and Christ is thine. 
So near thy rest, in heaven, where grief and sin 
Can never come, and tears are wiped from every eye ! 
Art thou so soon, to leave this world of sin and woe, 
Of sorrow, care, and pain, and enter on that rest 
Prepar'd for God's elect? 
We cannot wish to keep thee here. The joys 
Of mansions blest, oh, who can tell? What mortal eye 
Hath seen, or ear hath heard, or tongue expressed? 
Ah ! none. 'Twould baffle angel's powers, much 

more, frail mortal's. 
Earth's scenes are sweet — are passing sweet — yet a 

mere blank, 
Compared with heaven's. 
Thou lov'st the mellow sound of music sweet, 
E'en here it calms the restless mind, and soothes 

the heart, 
With anguish riven. But what is this, 
In view of heaven's unceasing song of praise ? 



56 MEMOIR OF 

Then hie thee, dearest sister, to those blest abodes, 

Thy happy soul will rest with Israel's God ; 

And though, we soon may part, we trust we soon 

shall meet, 
(How soon we little know) in yon bright world above, 
Where friend ne'er parts with friend, nor sun, 
Nor moon, nor stars, give light, but veilless glory 
Of th' Almighty God, and spotless Lamb, are light 

thereof. 

Through Wednesday Frances was com- 
paratively comfortable, had some appetite, 
and sat up much of the day, — but at night 
her difficulty of breathing returned, though 
she slept, tolerably well; and when awake, 
seemed to enjoy the society of her friend, 
who was watching with her. 

She was overheard in the night request- 
ing her friend as usual, to sing ; and when 
asked if there was not something she 
would prefer to hear, she mentioned the 
Psalm commencing, 

Show pity, Lord — Lord, forgive, 
Let a repenting rebel live ; 
Are not thy mercies large and free 1 
May not a sinner trust in thee 1 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 57 

The next morning she was evidently- 
more feeble, and in the afternoon, appeared 
to be failing rapidly, but again revived. 
She conversed but little, but still main- 
tained her wonted composure. On observ- 
ing that one hand was much swollen, and 
looking at it for a time, she raised her eyes 
to her mother, and said, " O well, it is no 
matter," seeming to imply, if the work of 
dissolution has commenced, and it is the 
will of heaven, let it go forward and be 
accomplished. The swelling of her feet 
she also noticed with the same composure. 
At night, on lying down, and preparing to 
go to sleep, she said with great earnestness, 
" Mother, will you pray that if it is the will 
of God, I may be spared to behold the light 
of another morning : if not, that I may be 
ready to go at any moment. And ask 

Father, aunt A and C also." It is 

an indescribable satisfaction that she real- 
ized so fully where to look for aid in this 
her last, and most trying emergency, that 
there were so many petitions offered in her 
behalf, and that the church were so much 



58 MEMOIR OF 

interested in her case. It was observed by 
one, that she never knew so many interces- 
sions at the Throne of Grace for any one 
individual ; and is there not reason to hope 
that the Lord by granting this spirit of sup- 
plication to his children, did design to an- 
swer Frances' request, that her sanctifica- 
tion might be effected rather than her 
recovery. The kindness of the people also, 
to which we would here make allusion, in 
sending her so many testimonials of their 
interest and regard, will ever be held in 
grateful remembrance. Scarcely a day 
passed, during some periods of her sickness, 
without receiving some token of their affec- 
tionate regard. These expressions of kind- 
ness, it was to Frances a source of gratifi- 
cation, to share with others, who were 
destitute and more suffering than herself. 
It had ever been her custom in health, to 
bestow upon the sick and suffering any 
article of luxury, as oranges, figs, etc., which 
had been presented her. 

It was also her practice to reserve the 
money that was given her on different 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 59 

occasions, and appropriate it to benevolent 
objects ; and it is not known that she ever 
expended the most trifling sum for any- 
toy or article of consumption like candies, 
sugar-plums, &c, as too many children 
are inclined to do. 

On Friday morning, there was a marked 
change, and it was evident that the hour of 
her departure was at hand. As from her 
pillow, she could look out from her pleas- 
ant window, where she had so often sat, 
and once more behold the sun coming forth 
in his glory, her countenance exhibited 
such sweetness and placidity, combined 
with deep solemnity, as to inspire the hope 
that, the peace of God, which passeth 
understanding, reigned deep within: thus 
verifying the promise, " Thou wilt keep 
him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed 
on thee : because he trusteth in thee." Her 
father, coming in was struck with her ap- 
pearance, and said to her, " Frances, are 
you not happy ? She gently replied in the 
affirmative. As her Aunt, who had been 
with her through the night, was about to 
leave, she was asked if she did not wish to 



60 ME3IOIR OF 

send love to her grand parents. "Yes," 
she said, with the utmost serenity of man- 
ner, " and tell them I hope to meet them in 

heaven : and uncle G and S. too. 

J. S has been a dear cousin to me. I 

hope we shall meet in heaven." To 
another cousin, she also sent a request, 
that she would seek religion now. "As- 
sure her,*' she added, with much feeling, 
"it will make her far happier, than any 
thing this world can afford."' How fully 
she realized, at that moment, the vanity 
and insecurity of all things earthly, and 
that religion is emphatically the one thing 
needful. Of how little value must this 
delusive world have then appeared to her. 
How mutable, evanescent, and unsatis- 
fying its brightest scenes. A short time 
since and Frances had been looking into 
the vista of futurity with as buoyant and 
cheering anticipations of happiness, as her 
young companions. But whither had fled 
those animating prospects, which had so 
often filled her youthful heart with joy and 
gladness ? They had been dashed as in a 
moment, and the universal destroyer was 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 61 

approaching with rapid strides to close the 
scene forever. Yet in view of all this she 
was calm; cheered and sustained by the 
soothing and supporting influence of the 
blessed gospel of the Son of God. She ad- 
monished her young friends of the necessity 
of seeking religion now ; with the assurance 
that it would make them far happier than 
aught this world affords. And will not the 
young regard her dying testimony, and in 
view of the awful realities of the unseen 
world ? prepare to meet their God before it 
is forever too late? u Oh that they were 
wise, that they understood this, that they 
would consider their latter end." 

In the course of the day allusion was 
made to another cousin in whom she was 
much interested, and who had been bereft 
of a beloved mother. Being asked if she 
had no message to send to him, she replied, 
" he must remember what I said to him at 
parting, that he must be a good boy, and 
learn to love the Lord." It is hoped he 
will never forget this counsel. 

She also wished to be remembered to all 
6 



62 MEMOIR OF 

the children of the school, with the request 
that they would strive to profit by her early 
removal, and be ready for their own depart- 
ure. Her grandfather called in the morn- 
ing, and Frances seemed much gratified in 
seeing him once more. She was very much 
composed, and conversed with him consid- 
erably; and, in allusion to the church 
prayer meeting, which he spoke of attend- 
ing in the afternoon with her grandmother, 
said feelingly, " How I should love to be 
where I could hear too." Before going to 
the meeting, her grandmother came in as 
she had requested in the morning. She 
had become more distressed, and was un- 
able to say much. But the smile and look 
of inexpressible tenderness, which Frances 
gave her grandmother, as she kissed her 
for the last time and bade her farewell, as 
if she would have said, " Be comforted, 
grandmother, and don't weep for me," will 
never be forgotten. Her grandfather had 
said to her in the morning, he had not sup- 
posed she would be called before him, but 
he did not expect to remain long behind. 
In allusion to this, she said in the after- 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 63 

noon, it made but little difference who 
was removed first, — to love the Lord with 
all her heart and soul was all she desired. 
She had remarked in a previous instance, 
that she felt that it was in mercy her 
Heavenly Father was about to remove her, 
rather than continue her in this world of 
sin and temptation, where from her natural 
propensity to evil, she would be so liable 
again to relapse into a state of worldly- 
mindedness and stupidity. u I would 
rather suffer what I now do," she said, 
" than to be well, and be as indifferent to 
spiritual things as I have been in health." 
There had been a maturity of mind, which 
was strikingly obvious in Frances ever 
after her illness, and in truth it might be 
said of her, that she appeared to have put 
away childish things. 

Her mother once remarked to her, how 
much more happiness she had derived from 
her society during her confinement, than 
ever before. She replied to this effect, that 
she had never had so much real enjoyment 
as since her sickness, and partial seclusion 
from the world. Is not this a further attes- 



64 MEMOIR OF 

tation to the power of Divine Grace to 
render the soul happy in every condition of 
life? 

Frances was possessed of an unusual 
share of resolution, and it never deserted 
her. She was up several hours every day, 
even the last: sat in her easy chair five or 
six hours ; and at her own request had her 
seat at the dinner table — but she scarcely 
looked like an inhabitant of this world. 
In the afternoon she became more restless 
than she had ever been. In the evening 
her brother assisted her to the bed, and sat 
awhile supporting her. It was truly affect- 
ing to the parental heart, to see her so 
affectionately reclining in his arms, and the 
thought that they were so soon to be 
separated, — that the ties which had so long 
bound them to each other, were so soon to 
be burst asunder by death's relentless 
stroke, was indeed afflictive. On lying 
down and conversing awhile, Frances soon 
fell asleep, and seemed to breathe with 
more ease than she had for some days. 
This her last night on earth, she had a 
very kind and experienced watcher, with 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 65 

whom her brother remained. About 12, 
Mrs. B. discovered an alteration, and said 
to her brother, "I believe she is going." 
She looked up, and said with a smile, u O 
no, I guess not." Mrs. B. said, " Are you 
not ready, Frances?" She replied, "I 
hope I am." As her mother came to her, 
she said very pleasantly, "They thought I 
was going, but I did not ; I suppose I 
breathed very feebly." Afterward, she 
wished us all to pray with her; and in 
reply to her mother's inquiry, if she 
could not trust herself entirely in the hands 
of the Lord? she replied with entire 
composure, she thought she could. She 
did not incline to say much, but seemed to 
be reposing very quietly. It is a most 
grateful reflection, and we could not but 
hope was in answer to prayer, that her last 
hours were rendered so peaceful. Not long 
before she was heard saying in a gentle 
tone, "Continue to live." And a very few 
minutes before she ceased breathing, on 
having some drink presented her, she said, 
"Am I living?" Mrs. B. replied, "yes, 
6* 



66 MEMOIR OF 

Frances, you are living." She again said, 
" Are you sure of it?" and oq being assured 
of the certainty, she again fell into a quiet 
slumber, from which she never awoke. 
It appeared she had been dreaming she 
was gone, and on awaking could scarcely 
believe she was still in this world. It was, 
however, but a few moments before her 
disembodied spirit left its frail tabernacle, 
and was we trust before the throne of God, 
pure and made white in the blood of the 
Lamb. So gently was she removed that 
we could scarcely discern when she had 
ceased breathing. We called her by her 
loved, familiar name, but she made no 
reply, for hers had become the cold, in- 
sensate ear of death. Those eyes which 
had so often beamed upon us with the 
fondest affection, we now closed, with the 
heart-rending conviction that on earth we 
should behold them no more. But thanks 
be to God, who had, as we fervently hope, 
given her "the victory through our Lord 
Jesus Christ!" 

In a few moments we all knelt about the 
lifeless but still precious remains, and her 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 67 

afflicted father thanked the Lord for re- 
moving her so mercifully, and for the con- 
soling hope that her ransomed spirit was 
now transplanted to that better, brighter 
world, where sin and sorrow, suffering and 
death, could never more assail her. 

The funeral was solemnized on Monday, 
June 5th, her death having occurred the 
Saturday previous, at a quarter before four 
in the morning. On the Sabbath interven- 
ing her father preached from these words, 
"I was dumb, I opened not my mouth be- 
cause thou didst it." Psalm 39: 9. And 
was there not abundant cause for the 
exercise of such a spirit as the Psalmist 
here describes? Surely there had been 
mercy, great mercy mingled in our cup of 
bitterness. It was remarked by those who 
attended upon Frances, and had had ex- 
perience, that they never knew any one 
let down to the grave with a lingering 
disease more gently, or with more tran- 
quillity of mind. The triumphant hopes 
and anticipations which some experience, 
she was not permitted to enjoy, but a meek, 
quiescent state, seemed to be the uniform 



68 MEMOIR OF 

tenor of her mind. And to what could this 
be attributed, but the loveliness of gospel 
influence ) To God be all the praise. 

The funeral was attended by a large 
concourse of people, and much sympathy- 
was manifested. There were five clergy- 
men present. The venerable Dr. Xott of 
Franklin, in his ninetieth year, made the 
prayer at the house. The beloved remains 
were then removed to the church. Rev. 
Mr. Bond ; of Norwich; made the first 
prayer. Rev. Mr. Whitman, of Greenville, 
preached a very appropriate and consola- 
tory sermon, from Habakkuk 3: 17. and 
Job 13: 15. "Though he slay me, yet 
will I trust in him." Rev. Mr. Nichols, of 
Lebanon, made the last prayer, and the 
services were closed by singing that touch- 
ing hymn, 

" Sister, thou wast mild and lovely," 

in a most solemn and affecting manner. 
This was peculiarly appropriate, as the 
deceased had been one of the choir for a 
number of years. At the grave. Rev. Mr. 
Shipman, of Jewetts City, made a very 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 69 

impressive address, particularly to the 
children of the Sabbath school. And thus 
closed a scene of deeper interest than any 
in which we had ever before participated. 

And is it possible, we are often led to 
exclaim, that this beloved one is indeed 
gone? Can it be that she who was pre- 
eminently the life of the domestic circle is 
forever removed from our view? Yes, 
there is no illusion — her precious form now 
slumbers in the quiet repository of the 
grave, which has been consecrated by the 
Saviour himself, as the resting place of his 
sleeping saints. And lovely as was that 
form in our view, we shall behold it no 
more, until the morning of the resurrec- 
tion. But it is all well, for God has taken 
her. He knew just how long to continue 
her here, and when it was best to remove 
her. And shall we, the 

11 Poor, blind creatures of a day. 
And crush'd before the moth," 

dare repine at the dealings of Infinite, un- 
erring wisdom? We trust we have no dis- 
position so to do — and that we have never 
seen a moment, when, were it in our 



70 MEMOIR OF 

power, we would have recalled her to this 
sinful, suffering, sorrowing world. No! 
we would rather say, 

"Stay there, blessed child, thy friends would bid 

thee stay, 
Dear as thou wast, and ever will be, to our bleeding 

hearts, 
Our love rebukes the wish, that thou wert here, 
Though we are left to mourn. n 

Still we sorrow ; and may we not without 
the exercise of rebellious feelings? Jesus 
wept at the grave of his beloved friend. 
And how can we do otherwise, on the re- 
collection of her winning and affectionate 
deportment, her grateful, submissive, un- 
complaining spirit, her smiling countenance 
in the midst of her sufferings, to prevent 
the distress of her friends, and the solace 
she had become to them in almost every 
respect. Yet we would say from the heart, 
"Thy will be done," feeling assured that 
He who is infinitely wise, and good, hath 
done all things well. 

And now this little volume is submitted 
to the public, with the fervent prayer, that 
its influence, combined with the numerous 



FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 71 

similar works already extant, may serve to 
conyince the youthful mind, of the intrinsic 
worth and power of the religion of Jesus 
Christ; and also, that it is not an affliction 
on one's own account, to have an early 
removal from this imperfect state, if life's 
great end is answered, and an inheritance 
secured, in the blest mansions of unfading 
purity. 

And we would, in conclusion, affection- 
ately request each youthful reader of this 
simple narrative, not to dread so much the 
afflictions of this mutable state, or even an 
early death, as a life of sin, the displeasure 
of God, and his wrath forever. And may 
they remember the sentiment of that beau- 
tiful stanza, which has been previously 
mentioned as being very precious to the 
deceased : 

" 'Tis better to suffer and die, 

Beneath thy compassionate rod, 
Than feel my enjoyments run high, 
But never have thee for my God." 

May the Spirit of all grace incline the 
hearts of parents to realize more fully, that 
their beloved children are but lent bless- 



72 MEMOIR OF FRANCES AMELIA AYER. 

ings, and liable to be recalled at any 
moment — and, with their vast responsi- 
bilities in view, labor with unremitting 
faith and zeal, to secure their early sancti- 
fication. And may the young burst the 
bands which bind them to the transient, 
fascinating pleasures of this mere threshold 
of their interminable existence, and imme- 
diately and unreservedly consecrate all 
they have, and are, to the service of the 
compassionate and ever-blessed Redeemer, 
who voluntarily gave up his own most 
precious life, to ransom them from death 
eternal. Then through infinite rich grace, 
may they too be enabled to anticipate their 
own dissolution with a sweet serenity of 
spirit ; and while their hearts are glowing 
with love to God, rejoice that even the 
young Christian may die. 

" Who, who would live alway, away from his God ; 
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, 
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, 
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns." 

THE END. 



l7'-> 



